The Casino at North Haven is a curious little box, known locally—possibly from its situation at the end of a fairly long wharf—as the "Fo'c'sle." It has but one room, paneled with imitation Japanese carvings, and having an attractive divan-like seat in a wide bay-window, where one may lounge and watch the vessels passing through the Thoroughfare. Outwardly the building is very plain, its two prominent features being the bay-window, which looks south, and a flight of outside stairs on the west which lead to a little nest of a balcony half hidden under the gable-end of the roof above this window.

The balcony is so covered by the peak of the roof that its interior is not visible from the wharf, and a person sitting on the settle at the back of it can be seen only from a boat some distance out on the water.

The Casino is little used, and although the caretaker unlocks the door each morning, the place is more generally deserted than not. The subscribers who come down to the wharf to start for rowing or sailing sometimes step in, wait for friends, or use the place as a storage for extra wraps; sometimes a riotous group of children holds brief but noisy possession; but after sunset the solitude is generally unbroken until ten o'clock, when the caretaker comes to lock up for the night. If the weather be bad, it is not unusual for the Casino to remain unvisited for the entire day. It affords a convenient shelter when it is needed, however, and its wharf, with a float on either side, makes a good landing-place; and it is, in a word, one of the numerous class of things which in this world are not constantly in demand, but which, when they are wanted at all, are wanted badly.

Here, on the evening of the fourth of June, Jerrold Taberman, wrapped in a shapeless ulster,—for a thick fog was driving in from the southeast,—sat awaiting his friend. Half an hour earlier Jack had gone to get something to eat, and Jerry had agreed to meet him here. Taberman was somewhat tired to-night, and beginning to feel the strain of three crowded and exciting days in which he had had little time for anything but action and sleep. The young men had completed their arrangements at the Island, had left Gonzague in charge there, had notified the future crew to report to the ProvenÇalese on the evening of the third, and to hold themselves in readiness to sail immediately on the arrival of the Merle. The pair had then taken the big market-boat, a whitehall used for bringing supplies from Isle au Haut, and with a couple of the most able of the Isle au Haut men, selected beforehand, had sailed over to an unfrequented cove in Vinal Haven, on the south side of the Thoroughfare. There they encamped in hiding. They had reached their place of concealment by night, and next afternoon had the satisfaction of seeing the Merle come in from the westward and drop anchor just inside the channel, off the "Fo'c'sle."

"By Jove, isn't she a fine sight!" Castleport exclaimed enthusiastically; and Jerry assented no less warmly.

The Merle ran in under full sail, with a quartering breeze. Her clean white hull, eighty-four feet on the water-line, her shining brasses, her broad spread of snowy canvas, the easy run of her long counter, combined to make a picture which, even personal interest aside, could not fail to stir such enthusiasts as Jack and Tab.

On the evening of the arrival of the Merle two gentlemen and three ladies had gone on board, evidently to dine, as they did not leave until nearly ten o'clock. Castleport and Taberman, lying concealed among the bushes overgrowing a tiny promontory on Vinal Haven, had watched all this through their night-glasses. Jack, whose eyes were as keen as a hawk's, had even thought that he could distinguish who the visitors were. With guests on board there was evidently nothing that the conspirators could do but to watch, and when this was over they smoked a good-night pipe together over their campfire, and for the hundredth time fell to considering their chances of success. Behind them in the shadow lay the two sailors, wrapped in their blankets and sleeping the sleep which only the genuine mariner knows; Jack glanced at them as if he felt that somehow he was personally responsible for carrying through the enterprise for which they had been enlisted.

"What the deuce shall we do if the President takes it into his head to get under weigh for the island to-morrow?" Jerry demanded in a subdued voice.

"Oh, that's all right," Jack answered in the same key. "He won't. He's fond of North Haven; it's an old stamping-ground of his, and he'll never go on without having had at least one night's bridge here. That's part of the cruise. Besides, it's going to be thick, or I'm a duffer."

Thick it certainly was next day. The brisk southeasterly breeze that blew through the Thoroughfare all day seemed to roll in white billows of fog far more rapidly than it could take them out at the other end. The strait acted as a sort of condenser, in which the mist became almost tangibly more solid, until at nightfall it was, as one of Castleport's men put it, "blacker 'n a tar-bucket." Under cover of the obscurity Jack had had the market-boat reloaded with such necessities as they had brought over for their camp, and rowed silently over to one of the Casino floats. Here he and Taberman got out, and then the men, by his orders, worked the boat into concealment between the spiles of the wharf, there to await further orders, utterly invisible in the fog.

The two arch-conspirators mounted the wharf, and for some time kept watch to see if any one came ashore from the Merle; but as the time wore on to half-past seven they concluded that the President must be dining on board. Assured of this, Jack left Jerry to keep watch, and went up to the village bakery for food, dinner for himself and his friend having been forgotten in the midst of more important things. Tab, left alone in the wet darkness, had mounted to the balcony, and there sat in gloomy state, wondering if Jack were never coming back. He had no light by which to see his watch, but since he had heard seven bells from the Merle he felt sure that eight o'clock must be close at hand, when his attention was caught by the sound through the fog of the quick thud-thud, thud-thud of oars against thole-pins. In an instant he was thoroughly alert, his senses primitively acute, and his growing sensation of vague depression utterly dispelled. He heard some one pull hastily to the "Fo'c'sle;" the muffled chugging of the oar-blades as the rower held water; the gentle slapping of the boat's wash against the float; and then the clatter of the oars on the thwarts. Then by the dim light of the lantern at the end of the pier he saw a man spring on to the east float and secure his boat; give a quick, nervous tug at the painter to be sure that it was fast, and disappear from the field of vision which was bounded by the edge of the sloping roof. He fancied he heard a murmur as if the newcomer spoke a word of encouragement to the sailors in damp concealment under the wharf, and then had hardly time to wonder where Jack had been in a boat, before Castleport had run lightly up the plank from the float to the pier, and thence up the steps to Tab's place of concealment.

"Sit tight!" whispered Castleport breathlessly.

"What's—" began Jerry.

"Sh! We've the chance of a lifetime! I—I"—He gasped for breath, but caught it with a great gulp, and hurried on. "I've been aboard, Tab! Come in, man! Get back, get back!" He forced his friend into a seat in the farthest corner of the little balcony, caught his breath again, and began to chuckle. The sound of oars was again audible,—this time the steady, measured stroke of a heavy boat well pulled.

"Here's Uncle Randolph," cried Jack with a sort of whispered shout. "Here's Uncle Randolph!" And seizing his friend by the shoulders, he shook him and banged his head noiselessly against the wall for sheer glee.

"Stop, Jacko, stop it! Hold up, or by Jumbo I'll yell! Look there! Here they are."

As the pair hurried cautiously to look out over the edge of the balcony, a large cutter, pulled by six men, came out of the fog into the dim illumination of the pier-light. Three gentlemen in light overcoats were visible in the stern-sheets, the one in the middle steering. A little removed from the President and the two men who were evidently his guests, sat one of the officers of the Merle.

"Way enough," called the steersman in a sharp voice.

"Oh, my aunt!" whispered Tab, giving Jack a nudge. "The President has very little idea that he's made all the way in the Merle he's likely to for one while."

The cutter ran smoothly along beside the float.

"In bows! Fend off, there!"

At the word the oars were unshipped, and a couple of sailors caught the rope which edged the staging. The cutter came to a stop. A seaman leaped out and held the boat, the officer sprang to the float and presented an arm for the President and his guests as they stepped to land.

"We'll be down at eleven," the President said to the officer. "If you want an hour or two ashore, there's some sort of a shindy going on opposite the post office, I believe—dance or something. Mind you're sharp on time for me, though."

"All right, sir. Eleven o'clock it is, sir," returned the officer, touching his cap deferentially as the three gentlemen turned away.

"Great Scott!" cried Jack into Tab's ear in an excited whisper. "Do you suppose the President's going to get rid of all those men for me himself? Was ever such luck!"

The boat still lay at the landing. The men began to discuss going ashore, and every word was easily audible to the two watchers in the balcony.

"I vote we go," quoth he with the boat-hook. "It ain't every day the old hunks gives us a chance to stretch a leg ashore."

"It'll be dry, Tom," spoke up one in the boat. "Ye won't get so much as a swig o' cider-water this side o' Bar Harbor."

"Well, boys, let's try it, anyhow," advised the officer. "If it's dry there, it's wet enough here."

"That's right," responded another. "Damn yer slops, Bill, ye dude; the' 're's good as mine, an' any togs is good enough for po'r Jack. Let's go ashore an' take a look at these Thoryfare bewties."

This seemed to settle it. The boat was made fast, and the men straggled up the pier, talking and laughing as they went.

Tab and Jack fairly hugged each other in delight at this development, and then Jerry opened fire.

"You said you'd been aboard," he began, "what"—

"When I left the bakery," Jack answered, without waiting for the question to be finished, "I said to myself that the fog was so thick it would be perfectly safe to take a boat and row out, on the chances that I might find out something. I meant to get astern of the Merle and give the wind a chance to bring me some of the talk aboard. I borrowed a little pea-pod from the pier behind Staples', and out I went. When I got to the yacht, I found I could lay alongside, for there wasn't a soul on deck. I hauled off my jacket and hung it over the boat's side for a fender, so she wouldn't make any noise, and took the painter in my fist. Then I stood on the thwart and jumped for the rail on the port side."

"You'd have made the devil of a mess if you'd missed it," commented Jerry.

"But I didn't. I got hold, but, Gad, I came near going overboard!"

He stopped to laugh, this time fearlessly aloud, while Jerry chuckled.

"I lay flat along the bulwark," Jack went on, "by the main rigging. The skylight-covers were on, of course, but the frames were half up, and I could get scraps of the talk in the cabin. The men Uncle Randolph's got along with him are old Melford and Tom Bardale. I thought I'd die to hear them go on. Old Melford was grumbling away,—he's always an awful croaker, you know. He piped up once, and said it was just his luck to have to suffer both fog and bridge when he came for solid cruising. Uncle Randolph and Bardale both poo-poohed him, and asked him if he'd rather play slap-Jack. The old boys are going to play bridge somewhere,—I didn't find out where, but it doesn't matter; they're settled, anyway. I didn't hear anything else, for I'd hardly time to drop into the pea-pod and get out of the way of the men from the fo'c'sle that came out to haul in the cutter on the boat-boom. I rushed ashore as tight as I could pelt, and you saw the rest. This dance business, too! Luck's with us!"

He stopped, all but breathless. With one accord the pair started for the stairs, and took their way to the pier, where the lantern made a dim and watery illumination in the midst of the fog. Castleport seized Jerry by the arm and led him to the edge of the pier.

"With this wind," he said with great earnestness, "we'd best run out to the westward, and beat along the south of Vinal Haven. We'll have more sea-room, and with the weather as thick as this, I don't deny that even that's risky enough."

"It is a nasty night," Taberman assented with emphasis. "Are you for going outside Wooden Ball Island?"

"Tell that when we've got by Dogfish and the rest of 'em," replied Jack briefly. "I mean to leave that to Dave, anyhow."

"You're dead sure you want to do it, old man?" queried Tab with the air of one who would not have asked the question had he not been confident that the answer would be in the affirmative.

"I'd do it ten times over just for the lark!" snorted Jack. "Now then—business!"

They descended the ladder to the eastern float, and Castleport called out guardedly to the men who had all this time been lying concealed in the market-boat under the wharf. A slight bumping, a muttered oath, the rattle of an oar on the thwart, and then the nose of the boat emerged from beneath the pier. A vigorous thrust with the boat-hook against one of the outer stringers shot her up alongside the float.

"All right?" inquired Jack.

A stoutly built man of short stature standing in the bow of the boat answered.

"Right enough, sir; but a mite holler."

"Well, Dave, we'll fix that in a spell," said Jack. "We've got a bit to do first, though. Let's have your watch, Tab."

He pulled out his own as he spoke, and took Jerry's with it in one hand. Then with the other hand he struck a match, which he craftily sheltered from the wind.

"You're a minute fast of me, Jerry," he commented, throwing away the match and returning the watch. "I say eight seventeen, and you say eight eighteen. You and Jim take the market-boat and go over to the other float. Take the Merle's cutter and tow her out to one of the moorings off the club here. At eight forty-eight sharp,—just half an hour,—you hail the Merle. Sing out like the deuce, and tell 'em to send a boat ashore. I'll see that they send one, and that when they've left there'll be nobody aboard but me. In about fifteen minutes from now a boat'll come ashore, but you needn't mind her. Dave'll look out for that business. Just you pick out some mooring a bit to windward of the direct line between the yacht and the Casino, so they shan't spot you. When you hear a boat coming in answer to your hail, you come out yourselves, and tow the cutter. That you're to make fast astern the Merle. Got it all clear?"

"I guess so," Jerry answered. "I don't notice a boat till eight forty-eight; then I hail, and when I hear a boat coming in answer I cut out to the Merle. Give me some matches to see the time with. Well, good luck, old man; be sharp, or you'll dish the whole game."

With this parting caution Taberman stepped into the market-boat, while Dave got out. Oars were not needed, but Jerry and the sailor easily pulled the market-boat around by the spiles to the other float, where they lay concealed in the rolling fog.

"Now then, Dave," Jack said as they disappeared, "you and I are the ones that are going to open this ball. You take me out, set me aboard just as if you did that sort of thing regularly,—do you see? As if I'd paid you a quarter for setting me aboard, you know. Then you row back. Here's a boat that'll do," he broke off, pointing to a small whitehall boat made fast to the staging. "Get in, and pull me out."

The pair stepped into the little craft, and when Dave began rowing Jack continued his instructions.

"When you get back to the float," he said, "you just make this boat fast, and hide under the shadow of those stairs on the outside of the Casino—you know?"

"Yes, sir."

"Wait for a boat from the yacht with three or four men in it.—Pull on your port oar a bit; that's good.—When they get ashore and go up the wharf, you take their tender and rush her out to a mooring same as Mr. Taberman's done. Do you see?"

"Guess so, sir," was Dave's response. "Do you want me to catch the same one?"

"Any one'll do, provided it won't be seen by a boat pulling ashore from the Merle. You won't have to go far to hide in this fog.—Little stronger on your port oar again; tide's cutting you down.—When you hear Mr. Taberman hailing, you stand by, and as soon as a boat goes by in answer, you pull out to the yacht and make fast astern. Give her plenty of painter; all she's got. Do you see now?"

"I guess I do, sir. You're going to have a boat on every davit that way, ain't you, sir?"

"If it works," Jack answered in a low voice, for they were now under the yacht's port quarter.

Dave pulled around in silence to the steps on the starboard side.

"Here we are, sir," he said in an even tone as he caught at the ladder grating.

The Merle, dimly visible by the foggy glow of her riding-light, was pitching slightly in the chop, and the small dinghy bobbed up and down beside her like a cork beside a floating spar. The waves slapped against the yacht's sheer, wetting her top-sides with spray and poppling away merrily under her counter. In the thick dimness her masts loomed up almost supernaturally tall.

"Hello aboard the Merle," shouted Castleport.

"Hello?" answered a voice from forward, and in a moment a tall, burly figure appeared on deck by the ladder.

"What is it?" asked the tall man. "What d' you want?"

"Hello, Camper," cried Jack, recognizing the voice as that of his uncle's sailing-master. "Hello, Camper, don't you know me?"

He sprang up the steps and gained the deck.

"Why, Mr. Castleport," the skipper cried in a hearty tone, "whatever are you doin' here? Thought you was over to the Island. How are you, sir?"

"Cold," Jack answered with a laugh. "How's yourself? Fit as usual, I suppose. President aboard?"

"No, sir. He's gone ashore to some sort of a gatherin'. I never thought to see you here, sir."

"Oh, I came over to join the yacht here. I got tired of waiting. I shan't want you any longer," he called down to the figure in the dinghy below. "Much obliged."

The dinghy and Dave melted into the blackness of the night.

"Come below, Mr. Castleport, sir. You'll have a bracer?" the genial sailing-master asked. "Nasty night, ain't it?"

"It is that," Jack agreed, "but I'm in hopes there'll be a change soon."

And smiling at the thought how truly the words expressed his secret intent, he followed the worthy Camper below.